


You Are My Sunlight

by Illnoira666 (Erin330)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Corruption, Fake Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg, Spies & Secret Agents, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erin330/pseuds/Illnoira666
Summary: Mark is an Agent for the Agency, which hasn't been a problem in his life before... but he's chosen to go undercover and fake his death, leaving his fiance behind who doesn't know any of this!
Relationships: Jenson Button/Kimi Räikkönen, Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel/Mark Webber
Kudos: 26





	You Are My Sunlight

_[August 15, 2012, Geneva] – Summer Break_

Rays of the morning sun fell through the crack in between the curtains and onto the bed where two male figures were laying, a blanket covering their mostly naked bodies.

Due to getting the sunlight on his eyelid, the smaller man opened his blue eyes and groaned as he spotted the time on the clock that was on the wooden nightstand. It was still pretty early in Switzerland.

Then, the very muscled right arm of his teammate slipped around his slimmer waist to pull the smaller man towards him and started nipping at the skin on the back of his lover’s neck. “A very good morning, my love.” he purred with that trademark Australian accent.

“Mark…” the blue-eyed man started but gasped as the Aussie bit on a sensitive spot. “… didn’t you get enough action last night?”

“I can’t help it Seb.” Mark said with a grin, slipping his left arm also around his younger lover. “You’re just so _intoxicating_ , I can’t get enough of you.”

“You’re just saying that to flatter me.” Seb said, though he had a smile on his face.

“I truly love you, Sebastian.” the dark-haired man spoke. “You’ve been catching my eye from the very moment I saw you five years ago. I never thought you’d even wanna be with me, but you’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

The blonde turned to face his lover. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.” and he placed his arms around the taller man’s neck, pale fingers buried into the dark curls. “Why suddenly this speech?”

The Australian smirked. “That’s because I have a little surprise for you.” and he turned the German on his back to reach the nightstand that was the closest to the window.

The smaller man frowned, but his eyes went wide as he saw what it was.

“Sebastian Vettel, will you be my husband?” Mark simply asked.

“Yes… a thousand times yes!” the blonde didn’t know how, but he’d gotten the words out of his throat. As the metal slipped onto his right ring finger, he felt the love the brunet was radiating from his eyes as blue and brown locked together.

“I love you so much.” the husky voice of the beach-tanned man said, breaking their comfortable silence, and started kissing his lover – no, fiancé. That was something he could get used to thinking.

\------  


After lying in bed for nearly the whole morning, Sebastian was preparing coffee in their kitchen. The silver engagement ring was a perfect fit, and it flooded back memories. Who thought that that accident two years ago in Istanbul would’ve eventually led to this amazing relationship?

He’d been a rookie for the Red Bull team that year, desperate to prove himself to _all_ of Red Bull. He did stupid stuff, Turkey being one of those mistakes where he destroyed a possible 1-2 finish for the team. After that, he knew he had to start thinking about everyone at the Red Bull team and not about trying to prove himself to them or the rest of the world.

Mark on the other hand, was an amazing team player. He always thought about the team first, and it was something Seb admired about the Australian. His strong physique, the product of years of training, was another and something the German admitted he’d been jealous of.

“What’s gotten into that beautiful mind of yours?” the dark-haired man asked as he stood behind the shorter German, placing a few kisses on the back of his neck. “You’re never this absent.”

Vettel grinned. “You. I was thinking about you.”

“Me, or that specific part of me?” the Aussie asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sebastian just shook his head. “You dirty _Arschloch_!”

Mark just laughed as he sat down at the table for breakfast.

 _‘Yeah, but he’s mine.’_ the younger man mused.

* * *

_[September 2, 2012, Stavelot] – Race Day_

When the racing resumed, it became clear that some drivers had become rusty over the summer break.

At Spa, there was a big lap 1 turn 1 incident. Six drivers were involved there, all starting out with a collision between 2008 world champion Lewis Hamilton and Lotus driver Romain Grosjean. The accident took both out, but they took Alonso and Perez with them, increasing Seb’s title hopes now his main competitor had much less of a lead over him and he himself had taken second place.

The two lovers were reunited in their motorhome, Mark waiting for his fiancé in his own personal room to come back from the press conference. He was lying on his back on the bed that was in there.

“What a race that was, huh?” Vettel stated as he entered the room, throwing his second-place cap somewhere on the floor and changing out of his fireproofs.

Webber hummed. “That start was indeed pretty crazy. Glad I wasn’t anywhere near that when it happened, it was fucking dangerous, Alonso could’ve died if Grosjean’s car had hit his head.”

“That would indeed have been awful.” and the German sat down on the bed, leaning down to kiss his dark-haired teammate.

The Aussie kissed him back but grabbed the hem of the oversized shirt the blonde now wore to pull the smaller man down towards him to dominate the kiss for a little bit before finally allowing them both some air to breathe. “If you want to know, I’ve gone commando right now.”

Seb bit his lip slightly and he went down with his right hand towards his teammate’s pants. As he slipped his hand inside, he indeed felt the hardening cock. “Oh, that’s _so_ hot. Expecting me to give you sex?”

Mark grinned. “Only hoping that you would do _something_.”

“You want something? Alright, I’ll give you some.” and the younger popped the buttons and pulled down the zipper. “ _But hands up!_ ” he hissed.

The older driver grinned as he placed his hands near his head as his young teammate shifted. He felt victorious every time he had sex with Sebastian. Webber might not have a world championship himself but possessing this champion inside and out felt just as good. “You drive me crazy, Seb.”

“I’m gonna drive you crazy.” and the double world champion took the engorged penis all in one into his mouth, making the Australian gasp at the sight of those rosy pink lips stretched around him.

The sun-tanned male knew he had to keep quiet as the walls of the motorhome were pretty thin, thus he bit on his left fist to stop the moaning he wanted to let out due to the pleasure he was receiving.

Sebastian looked up at Mark’s face, to see what his ministrations did to his teammate.

When Webber saw his fiancé looking at him through those beautiful eyelashes of his, he bit his under lip once more. “You really like my cock, don’t you Sebby? You’re always so hungry for it.”

The vibrations from Vettel’s moan shot up through his spine, increasing his pleasure.

“You would’ve been such a beautiful rent boy had you not chosen racing. I would rent you after each race, filling both your holes and making them drip with my cum, _ruining_ you for any other man. Would you like that? Me fucking you so hard, satisfying your every need in those pearly hotel sheets?”

As the German heard those dirty words coming from his sexual partner, he sucked harder.

“You have such a talented mouth… good thing I put a ring on you, now this is all _mine_.”

The dark-haired man didn’t last very long, shooting his load in the blonde’s throat who neatly swallowed _every_ , _single_ , _drop_.

“You’re so dirty.” Seb said after he let his fiancé’s penis out of his mouth.

“Yet it turns you on.” Mark wiggled his eyebrows. “I think your brain wants it dirty.”

Vettel laughed. “You’re delirious, Mark. But yeah, I’m all yours now, forever.”

* * *

_[September 9, 2012, Monza] – Race Day_

Italy was a race to forget for both Red Bull drivers.

Vettel had suffered a mechanical failure, again it was the alternator.

Webber didn’t have much luck either, spinning at the Ascari chicane in a way that caused extreme damage to the Red Bull car and thus forcing the Australian out of the race.

That night, they just held each other in a close embrace for comfort and kissed each other’s foreheads and cheeks. It hadn’t been their only misfortune that year and Mark knew he was already out of the championship race, he was only racing for constructor points by now, but Seb was still up there fighting Alonso, Hamilton and Raikkonen. And this retirement was really hard on him, and he could only hope that the remaining races were much kinder to him. Both of them, to be fair.

* * *

_[September 23, 2012, Singapore] – Race Day_

In Singapore, it was a whole different story. Red Bull’s luck had changed.

Vettel won the race after Hamilton had a problem, and all of Red Bull was ecstatic even with Webber’s quite disappointing 11th place.

As Seb was on his way to his hotel room, 1st place champagne bottle in hand, he wondered why he hadn’t seen Mark at the party. Usually, the Aussie loved Red Bull’s victory parties as they were always somewhat crazy, and Mark loved craziness, which was probably one of the reasons he’d chosen the young German to become his life partner. After the victory photo, his fiancé had basically vanished.

When he was in front of his room, he inserted the key card to open the door of the dark room. The blonde put the bottle down on the little table he could see where it was due to the light from the hallway and turned around to close the door and put on the lights.

Suddenly, the double world champion’s back was pressed against that door by a stronger individual.

“Mark…” the blonde moaned when his neck got attacked. His lover’s chest was naked.

The dark-haired Red Bull driver grinned. “Who else would I be?” and he squeezed the smaller man’s ass.

“What are you doing?” Seb groaned.

“What am I gonna do? Sebby, I think that’s quite simple.” Webber was grinning against his fiancé’s skin. “I will make you delirious with pleasure… as a reward for this win.”

The German bit his lip in anticipation. Then, his stronger teammate picked him up and threw him on the king-sized bed.

Within seconds, the Aussie was on top of him, binding the pale skinned wrists with furry Red Bull blue handcuffs to the frame of the bed.

“It will take a lot to make me delirious.” said Vettel as the taller man undressed him.

“I know _exactly_ what it will take.” Mark told once he pulled down his partner’s pants and underwear.

Sebastian moaned at the thought of what his beloved could do to him.

Webber slicked up his fingers first before pushing one into his lover’s entrance. Seb’s little hole always accepted his fingers eagerly, this time was no exception. It sucked him in, like it knew that it wanted dick.

The younger man enjoyed being stretched, knowing that in the end his fiancé would fuck him hard like he did after every single one of his wins. And every time Mark won, they made sweet, sweet love.

But this time, it wasn’t his lover’s cock that entered him after being stretched. No, it was a vibrator.

“Your ass is so eager for anything.” the older driver said in a much huskier tone.

Seb gasped for breath as the vibrator started vibrating right on _that_ spot.

Mark explored the pale lithe body before him, starting at the feet and working his way up towards the stomach, sucking many hickeys in places that could be hidden beneath clothing, but it would remind his lover whom he belonged to.

The German breathed heavily, feeling himself starting to sweat. “Mark… hurry up!”

“Oh, so _demanding_.”

“You’ve single handed made sure I never wanted another.” said the blonde.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you.” the Australian said with a predatory grin on his face. “I’m gonna _possess_ you from the inside out.”

\------  


Mark hadn’t been kidding.

Sebastian was completely limp and breathing heavily from the many orgasms his lover had drawn out of him during that night. His ass felt so sore, that he believed he wouldn’t be able to sit properly for _days_.

His tall, dark, Australian fiancé was lying beside him, fingers possessively placed on Seb’s hips and looking at him with his dark eyes. “I love you, Seb. Don’t ever forget that.”

The blonde smiled. “How could I?”

Webber placed a kiss on the German’s beautiful pink lips. “I just want it ingrained in that beautiful mind of yours.”

* * *

_[September 25, 2012, London]_

When Mark got back to his apartment at the edge of London, he hadn’t expected Jenson to be waiting for him there. “Jens? What are you doing here?”

“Do I have to spell it out?” the Brit asked with a frown.

“What’s the message?” Webber murmured.

Button looked around for a bit before leaning in. “Next crash, undercover op.”

The Australian looked puzzled. “What does that even entail?”

The blonde sighed. “The first of us who crashes out of the race, has to go undercover.”

“Suzuka. Well, that’s however gonna be a crash fest.” the dark-haired man commented as he leaned against the door. “But how are they gonna pull that off? Faking a death?”

The McLaren driver nodded. “Exactly.”

A frown appeared on Mark’s face. “They do understand that that will cause devastation, right? I mean, you have Jessica, Heikki has Vitaly, Lewis has Nico, Kimi’s got Jenni, Paul’s got David and I have Seb.”

“They know, but they don’t _care_ , Mark.” Jenson told. “They just want the job done.”

“But… faking a death is a bit… _extreme_.” commented the Red Bull driver.

The Brit just shrugged. “Well, we’re high profiled people Mark, we can’t _just disappear_.”

“I still don’t like it Jenson.” the Australian said.

“Me neither, Mark.” sighed the blonde. “I should be going; I’ve got to inform the others as well.”

As the other man left, Webber went into his apartment and slammed the door closed.

“Ecclestone and his _stupid ass_ decisions.” he grumbled. He should never have accepted to become an Agent, but it seemed like a good idea in 2003 when driving for Jaguar. That team was quite under the radar, he wouldn’t really stand out among the other drivers and becoming an Agent back then didn’t mean much. But ever since 2008, when Ecclestone found out about some teams laundering money, they were all much more on alert.

Mark looked at the silver ring on his right ring finger. It was the ring Seb had bought for him in Singapore on the Thursday before the race. It was only slightly more elaborate than the one he’d given his beloved.

Seb’s own ring had a little round diamond and was completely silver, his had a square sapphire and there was some platinum around the stone.

The Red Bull driver closed his eyes as he sat down. He couldn’t think about that shit now, there were still 12 days to go before the next race, he had to prepare and just make sure to stay out of trouble, which usually happened in the midfield.

* * *

_[September 30, 2012, Heppenheim]_

Seb had gone home to his parents and siblings for a couple days in between the two fly-away races. He had to break the news of his engagement to Mark to them, and it hadn’t really gone over that well.

Sure, his parents had known for quite a long time that their oldest son was gay, no problem there. But they had a problem with the age gap between the two of them. After all, Mark was in his mid-thirties, 36 to be exact, and the double world champion had only just turned 25. Eleven years.

Mark’s age didn’t matter to the younger Red Bull driver, only their love mattered, as that is where marriages and families were built on. But he understood the concerns, as he would’ve been concerned for his sisters had one of them married a much older guy. Yet Mark wasn’t after a trophy husband like some rich guys were, he didn’t even have a villa to lock him up in!

His siblings had their own reservations about Mark, since they didn’t know him all that well. Understandable in a certain degree, he guessed.

_‘Why didn’t I just introduce Mark to my family last winter break?’_

* * *

_[October 7, 2012, Suzuka] – Race Day_

It was at Suzuka, Japan, where tragedy struck.

The first days were sunny, but windy, causing a couple accidents in free practice and all. Qualifying Q3 was just all fucked up, but the Red Bulls were on the first row of the grid.

But on race day, the rain came. It started drizzling on the third lap. The rain hit turn 15, 130R, first.

Because his tires were dry weather ones, Webber was slower there, but it seemed that the car behind him in 4th place misjudged the Red Bull’s breaking point, crashing into the back of the RB8 and sending them both into the gravel traps and against the tire barrier.

Yellow flags.

Mark felt a little dizzy the first moments after the crash and was most likely unconscious for a while. One moment he was still strapped into the car, replying on the team radio to his race engineer, the next he was in the Suzuka medical centre with only Heikki and Ecclestone there. Then, he realized it. “ _Shit!_ ” the RBR number 2 cursed.

Bernie gave him a look. “I’m sorry, Webber. But there’s no other choice.”

“I doubt you’ll tell Sebastian the truth.” the Australian muttered.

“Nobody can know the truth, Webber, only us of the Agency.” said Ecclestone before looking down on a notepad. “Now… I have to prepare for your funeral.”

Mark stood up. “Wait, put this on the fake body.” and he held out his engagement ring. “It will make it more convincing, I guess.”

The Formula One director nodded, took the silver ring and left the room.

Webber sat down on the bed and looked at Heikki. “Do you know what I’m about to do?”

The Finn shook his head. “Only that there’s something going on at Toro Rosso.”

“What the fuck?” the Red Bull driver asked out loud.

Kovalainen shrugged. “Hey, that’s all I’ve been told! Eccle-pickle really keeps his mouth shut.”

“Has the race already ended?” the Aussie asked.

Heikki nodded. “Yeah, Vettel won, with Massa and Kobayashi behind him. But the race was red flagged after three quarters of the race, the spray was getting ridiculous.”

The dark-haired man smiled at the fact that his fiancé had won once more, but his face fell when he realized Seb would never know he was still alive and the thought of him crying over the fake body with his engagement ring on his hands. It didn’t feel good.

* * *

_[October 8, 2012, Copenhagen]_

Overnight, Mark Webber had officially been declared dead to the masses. His funeral planned in Australia on the 10th. Only the Agents and The Top knew he wasn’t, and Webber was shipped off to a small apartment in the capitol of Denmark to get the mission details.

It was Charlie Whiting who came to the apartment to give him those details.

And indeed, it was as Heikki had told: Bernie suspected money was being laundered by some of the engineers, ordered by some of their superiors.

The… former Red Bull driver sighed as he saw what he was about to do. He was going to become a minor engineer at Toro Rosso to infiltrate the little group of money launderers to find out who those superiors were and gather evidence. There would be a wire on him 24/7 that would be off between 8PM in the evening and 7AM in the morning.

An Agent recruited from the GP2 Series was already signed for Toro Rosso the next year, a New Zealander called Brendon Hartley. And Mark would work on that man’s car, giving him an excuse to talk to the young driver who would spy on the higher-ups.

Webber just banged his head on the table.

“Mark, are you alright?” the race director asked.

“To be honest, not really.” and the dark-haired man’s gaze fell on his ring-less right hand, and he clenched it into a fist. “I wish I didn’t need to leave Seb for this.”

The older Brit’s eyes shone with sympathy. “I can only imagine how it feels to be ripped away from the person you love.”

* * *

_[October 10, 2012, Sydney] – Sebastian’s POV_

I felt numb, completely numb, since arriving here in Australia for Mark’s funeral. That’s all I felt, in the car, during the service, when I gave my speech in memory of Mark, during the reception… it wasn’t until I was back at the hotel that I just… _broke down_.

I cried and cried for my lost love.

We were supposed to get married in Belgium in late January, in Mechelen, and we would have _at least_ 40 years together joined in marriage. We would probably have adopted some children and chosen a place, probably in Great Britain, to settle down and live out the rest of our years after we had both retired.

But now, all of that was _gone_. I didn’t have a future with Mark anymore, he was killed in that crash with Grosjean. _One split second_ , and my love was just _gone_.

 _‘Oh Mark… how can I even live without you?’_ and I cried myself to sleep that night.

During that night, however, I gained new determination to win this 3rd title. I know Mark would’ve wanted me to do so, I know him good enough for that. There were five more races to score points, and now due to Alonso’s collisions, I have a much better chance to win this. _For Mark_.

* * *

_[October 12, 2012, Yeongam] – Free Practice Day_

Christian Horner looked on as the crew of engineers was busy on both cars. Every single person had been completely down the last five days, ever since the news of Mark’s ‘death’ broke. It was hard on them all.

The team principal knew of the Agency and that Mark was a part of it, but he only knew because he himself had been approached during his Formula Ford days by Ecclestone himself. He’d declined, because he knew his future wasn’t in the racing itself. When Mark joined the Red Bull Racing team in 2005, Bernie had informed him of the fact that his new driver was an Agent. And his supposed ‘death’ was all part of one of Bernie’s plans.

The Brit had never understood the boss, just that the Agency was a way to fight crime that was going on inside the Formula One paddock, and all Agents were pretty well-trained spies, used to gather information on suspected criminals for the verdict of _Guilty_ or _Innocent_.

Chris had watched Vettel since the day of Webber’s ‘death’. The driver on the other side of the garage had been engaged to the Australian.

There had been the expected emotions of grief and fury, but now the German was more determined than ever to win this 3rd title to honour Mark. He wanted to do it out of the love he had for his fellow driver and winning a title for him made sense to anyone who’d ever driven in any Formula Series.

“Do you think it’s a good plan to let Vettel go after this season?” Newey asked, out of the blue.

Horner blinked with his eyes. “It’s his decision.”

The technical director had an uncomfortable look on his face. “It’s just… I have a feeling, Christian, that something’s going to happen during the winter break. Something awful.”

“To Vettel?” Christian asked, shocked by what the bald man had just told him.

Adrian nodded. “Yeah.”

It kinda scared the team principal. “Can you describe it?”

“Not really, Chris.” the older Brit said and sighed. “I guess it happens when I see the sadness in Vettel’s eyes. My stomach crunches, flips, and I see blackness behind his eyes. As if his soul died when Mark died.”

Yeah, that was a pretty nasty description. Maybe the brown-haired man should warn a person who was close to Vettel, to look out for the 25-year-old at a distance during the winter break.

\------  


Mark’s stomach crunched when he entered the paddock in disguise. His dark hair had been bleached and turned into chestnut and he had to wear itchy blue coloured contacts to hide his dark brown eyes. He had his eyebrows coloured, his nose was now crocked due to the effect of make-up and then there was a prosthetic and a fake beard hiding his entire jawline. The fake golden wedding band felt all wrong, since it wasn’t Seb’s name engraved into the metal but a random woman one’s who was supposedly Swiss. His own name had been changed to Eric Virtanen, a man of Finnish-Australian descent who’d grown up in Perth.

Brendon was pretty nice, though his longer blonde hair was rather comical and made him look half guy half girl. But Webber supposed androgynous looks were quite in these days due to Tokio Hotel’s popularity. The Kiwi had apparently been selected by Marko as an agent during his first season in the GP3 Series and also trained by the Austrian. He’d expected to go to Endurance racing after his GP2 season, as he felt that was more what he liked, but half a season or one and a half season in Formula One would look pretty good on his CV, even if it was just in a Toro Rosso driving at the back of the grid.

Hartley replaced Ricciardo, another Australian, who’d stepped into Mark’s RB8 for the remainder of the season. This Ricciardo guy had the same looks as his predecessor but was extremely happy all the time.

“You know, I really get the chills around that Ascanelli guy.” Brendon told as they were behind the garage. “Day one in the factory, and I just get this weird feeling around him.”

“Has he said anything yet?” Webber asked.

“No, not yet. But I’ll be on Red Alert around him.” the driver told. “Anything on the floor yet?”

“There’s this one group that’s working on Vergne’s car. I keep receiving looks from them. It could be multiple things; I can only hope they don’t suspect too much.”

Then, Tost approached them. “Hartley, it’s time for your practise run!”

“Coming!” the Kiwi called out before hurrying back inside the garage.

The older Agent just sighed and sat down on an empty crate, looking in the general direction of the Red Bull garage. It was just wishful thinking that he could ever spot Seb from here, and even if he did, he wasn’t allowed to approach his fiancé who believed he was already a widower before they could even get married and start that family they dreamed of.

Mark grumbled and laid his head in his hands. He hoped this whole situation was solved as quick as humanly possible and that he could return to Seb and still make their plans come true. But haste was never good, and it could break both his and the androgynous looking driver’s covers and outing them as Agents.

No, he had to be extremely careful. If he or Brendon were discovered, their loved ones could become targets by the guys who led this whole money laundering operation from the Toro Rosso garage.

* * *

_[October 14, 2012, Yeongam] – Race Day_

Another win for Seb, and another big crash for title rival Fernando Alonso. This time it had been the Spaniards own mistake, crashing into the Toro Rosso of Jean-Eric Vergne, a backmarker at that point, with just 5 laps to go.

While Webber was extremely proud of his fiancé once more, he had to focus on the guys who were betting big money on certain drivers and also talking about sabotage. Match fixing wasn’t the Australian’s mission, but it was another big case for The Top to investigate once they heard the tape.

It would be a mission for another Agent for another day, him only being the instigator in this case.

No, Hartley’s suspicions of Toro Rosso’s technical director Giorgio Ascanelli were much more interesting in the case _he_ was currently investigating.

As technical director, the Italian had access to the team’s money reserves, and _big ass_ sums were appearing and disappearing each month, claiming to be a sponsor’s money that was used to make the Toro Rosso a better midfield car. Yet the amount used didn’t show in the results of either driver.

Mark had to find a way to access Ascanelli’s computers before the end of this year, and it was probably the best to do it during the tech director’s ‘business trip’ that was planned between the Abu Dhabi and Austin races. He had already recruited Brendon to keep the other engineers and staff busy that specific day.

* * *

_[October 28, 2012, Greater Noida] – Race Day_

In India, Sebastian had another win. Forth in a row, looking unstoppable in his goal to give his ‘dead’ lover the championship he deserved. Alonso had come second, Ricciardo third.

It had turned out to be a quite spectacular race, with a lot of spins, punctures and mechanical failures that caused a temporary yellow flag. It had been close. Seb had overtaken Fernando two laps before the flag fell, with just a 3 second gap lead while Daniel was attempting to fight the Spaniard.

Post-race, Vettel looked out over the track, winning trophy in hand. It was a beautiful night and he wished he could’ve shared this podium with his beloved Aussie.

Three weeks, just _21 days_ since that accident in Suzuka.

It stung in him and the question of _‘why him?’_ went through his mind every day.

His blue eyes fell on the trophy and clinched his hands around it. He had hoped that this trophy could’ve been Mark’s, _finally_ breaking the bad luck spell that seemed to hang over his Australian lover this year.

Seb looked up to the bright stars in the sky with tears in his eyes. “Why did you have to leave me?” Any answer never came, and the young blonde hung his head as he stepped back into the RB motorhome.

Unbeknownst to the young double world champion, Mark had been watching from the shadows.

The driver in disguise had also been crying while his lover did. He clenched his fists, _oh_ , how this had fuelled his hatred for whoever was responsible for the money laundering at TR.

* * *

_[November 4, 2012, Abu Dhabi] – Race Day_

Abu Dhabi was a crash fest. There were just too many accidents to count on one hand.

Lap 1 turn 1 was always a place where things could go horribly wrong. And it did: Hulkenberg, di Resta, Grosjean and Senna crashed, causing the first driver to retire and two others to pit for repairs at the end of the first lap while the last one got out scot free.

Then, on lap 7, Rosberg crashed into Karthikeyan who had been suffering hydraulic problems. That accident was particularly harsh to watch, especially with a driver’s death so recent as last month. It gave the entire paddock a big scare jump when that Mercedes car ended up in the barriers after sliding over the asphalt run-off area.

And on lap 37, after Hamilton’s car had also broken down like… on the middle of the road, Ricciardo was spun around by Grosjean who was attempting to get closer to his teammate Raikkonen, who was leading the race at that point after a brilliant pitstop from the Lotus team.

Vettel used the yellow flags for almost free pitstops, wooing crowd and watcher by going from a pitlane start to P2, half a second behind the Finnish Lotus driver, overtaking a raging Fernando Alonso on the last lap in the last corner. Seeing his rival bristle with anger was a bit scary, but fear couldn’t drown the triumphant feeling in the German’s stomach. If he was going to lose this title fight to the Spanish double world champion, he wasn’t going to make it easy for the Ferrari driver to take it away from him.

* * *

_[November 10, 2012, Faenza]_

Ascanelli was gone, the other technical staff was taking a look at the rear suspension that Brendon claimed could be improved a lot… the office was clear.

Mark had disabled the security cameras in that office for two days in a row, marking them as ‘under maintenance’. The system would indeed be under maintenance, but under _simulation_ maintenance only. It was one thing that Brawn had come up with after joining The Top. That man was a genius.

Webber broke in with a special code that was unique for each Agent. Only with such a code one could unknown to the person the computer belonged to bypass any and all security networks developed in the Formula One paddock.

The Italian technical director didn’t hide things well for the trained eye, an amateur though would probably miss the incriminating files.

Maybe these were enough, maybe they weren’t, that was up to Ecclestone to decide during the winter break. But the Australian didn’t expect it to be enough. He was still needed on the floor, gather even more information about the higher-ups. There was literally no way that there was only one person was responsible for everything that happened inside TR.

The incriminating files were downloaded on a USB hanging on Mark’s keychain. Next time one of the top dogs from The Top came around, they’d receive the information to pass it through to Bernie.

* * *

_[November 25, 2012, Sao Paulo] – Race Day_

Everything had gone against Vettel to clinch his third World Driver’s Championship, but he did get it in the end. He had been spun around in the first corner in the first lap, having to come from 24th on the grid to P6 at the checked flag with a broken front wing and shitty tires, winning with only _three_ whole points over Fernando Alonso.

When Seb stepped out of his Red Bull, he felt the tears falling from his eyes as the Brazilian crowd cheered him on. He’d done it, he would go down in history as a triple Formula 1 world champion with three _consecutive_ titles, as well as the first openly gay driver to achieve this feat.

The entire team congratulated him, and Christian gave him a papa bear hug once the engineers were done slapping him on his back and carrying him on their shoulders through the pitlane even while the podium ceremony was still going on.

Some drivers texted him, others came personally to the party Red Bull threw at the circuit.

“That was incredible!” Rosberg shouted as he tightly hugged his fellow German driver, his British partner just a few metres away.

“Good job man.” Hamilton said, slapping the triple champion on the shoulder. “Though it wasn’t as exciting as what I did here four years ago.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “If it weren’t for my retirements in Italy and Valencia, and that problem I had in Malaysia, it probably wouldn’t have come to this though.”

“Well, machines are machines.” Nico stated. “They give out on you at the worst moment possible.”

“Yeah, Mark had that a lot this year.” and the man from Heppenheim sighed.

The only black driver got an uncomfortable look on his face for some seconds. “Well, I gotta tell you, you stealing the championship right under Alonso’s nose has made a lot of drivers’ days. We all would have to listen to him boasting about him being the superior driver and everything.”

Vettel frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard about that.”

“Be glad.” Lewis huffed. “I was his teammate in 2007, the year after he became a double champion. Nothing but boasting and talking trash about other drivers. I’m sympathizing with Massa, unless he’s got the same opinions of course.”

“Has he talked trash about anyone we know?” Nico asked, probably also hearing this for the first time.

“Better question: who hasn’t he talked trash about of the current grid?” replied the Brit. “And that would be Michael Schumacher. Which is probably only due to him winning 7 titles like it was nothing at Ferrari.”

Seb wrinkled his nose at that comment. “Enough about trash talking. You boys want some champagne?”

“One glass sounds good.” Rosberg said while Hamilton declined, he was actively trying to get rid of his clubbing image.

The party at the RB garage continued into the early hours of the morning. It wasn’t until like 7 in the morning that the German finally fell onto the bed of his hotel room, asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

* * *

_[December 7, 2012, Istanbul] – FIA Gala_

The WDC trophy felt somewhat heavier than the two years before, but Sebastian was smiling throughout the night. This one was for Mark, who lived on in his heart.

The German hesitated to speak into the microphone, but still did it. “First, I’d like to thank the team for doing such a good job all season, they worked their asses off.”

People present started laughing.

“This championship is light in the darkness for us, Suzuka being the dark page of this year. We didn’t only lose an incredible driver capable of winning races and able to compete for championships. No, Mark was much more. He drove me to do better every time, there were even times he drove the engineers mad.” Seb stopped there for a moment, his eyes on the trophy and his engagement ring. “But he did everything out of love, for me, for the team… he always thought about the team first, something he had to teach me.” he took a deep breath and looked at the crowd. “I loved Mark. I still do. I will probably never stop loving him. I know he’ll live on in our hearts, and he’ll be watching us from above.”

The people stood up and clapped for him as Vettel took the trophy to his table, sitting down in between his sisters who cuddled him.

\------  


_Kimi’s POV_

I never cared about what people say about me, or others for that matter. I’ve had my differences with people, and usually those are easily solved. When I started my career in Formula One, in 2001 at Sauber, I was approached by my fellow Finn Mika Hakkinen to take part in the Agency. Back then, it gave some extra pay so I could give that money to my parents who’d sacrificed so much to get me in Formula One.

Apparently, rumours about teams actively ending careers of people they thought to be gay were going around in only my second season, when I was at McLaren, dubbed as the ‘Spy-School’ by Agents all around the paddock.

I knew some gay people back in Finland, and they were some of the most intelligent people I ever met. But when I got into the Formula Series, I saw that not everybody saw it like that. Some of my fellow drivers and many of the team bosses still believed being gay was either a phase or an illness, gay drivers silently suffering under their verbal abuse.

Knowing that it still happened in Formula One, a sport of progression and adapting to the times, set alight the Finnish fire in my eyes. I actively wanted to do something about it, and I made a personal mission of it to find out what every driver on the grid thought.

The Brits on the grid didn’t seem to mind people from the LGBT community. And it was refreshing to hear from my own teammate, DC, that he enjoyed watching drag shows and actually swung both ways.

It was more common for drivers from the more liberal countries, like Canada, Germany and Great Britain to accept LGBT rights as a part of humanity and even come with theories to rebuff religious fanatics. The other drivers, who came from southern Europe or Latin America, where Catholicism still played a huge role, were either completely against it or were just uncomfortable around gay people due to the way they were raised as kids.

This was only 2002, the early era of gay marriage being legalized by some countries in Europe. And I held hope that the younger generations would be even more liberal.

_Oh, how wrong I turned out to be._

Sure, the Brits and the Germans didn’t care. But it was double champion Fernando Alonso who seemed to cause trouble every time an open gay driver beat him during qualifying or the race. He was absolutely furious with Lewis Hamilton, the British driver beating him in 2007 in championship position and in 2008 won the WDC in Brazil at Alonso’s cost. Hamilton came out as gay during the 2009 season, and in 2011 became a couple with Mercedes driver Nico Rosberg.

And now, Alonso was being beaten by Sebastian Vettel, also an open gay driver since the summer of 2010. That was three years in a row being beaten, and the Spaniard didn’t like that. Not at all.

I received a message from Helmut Marko around 6AM the following morning.

 _‘Swiss winters. Watch Vettel.’_ it read. It was typical of the Austrian to keep it short but simple and clear. And this was indeed clear.

I should be packing for Swiss weather rather than Finnish weather.

* * *

_[December 24, 2012, Geneva] – Winter Break_

The house was silent, empty and cold. It should’ve been festive, filled with love and laughter, but one half of his heart had died at Suzuka two months ago.

Sebastian just stared down at his engagement ring. He hadn’t taken it off, not for a second, since Mark’s death. People would call him a fool, probably, as he kept thinking of what could have been.

The Lotus driver who had crashed into Mark’s Red Bull hadn’t dared to show his face to any media ever since that accident, he avoided them like the plague.

Blue eyes filled with tears once more. Once they were shining, but the very flame that had ignited every spark had gone out and there was no way to lit it up again. Everything was one big grey hue instead of colour, he only felt sadness where the happiness once was and there seemed to be no end to this deep, black tunnel he’d fallen in.

From the open bathroom door, steam emerged.

Like a zombie, Vettel entered the bathroom and undressed himself before sliding into it. He hadn’t felt good for over a month, constantly throwing up and feeling bloated, believing it was his depression.

It felt as if he couldn’t go on anymore, he couldn’t fucking breathe.

As his head went under, the only thing he could think off as he felt his lungs fill up with the bath water and his world going black was being with Mark once more forever.

* * *

_[December 25, 2012, Geneva] – Centre Medical de Genève_

_Kimi’s POV_

I had rushed Seb to the nearest hospital I could find in the hope they’d keep him alive. After I admitted him, I had called Jenson to get his ass over here and to bring Hamilton and Rosberg with him. I knew those two were spending their Christmas with Hamilton’s mother after Anthony’s _very_ public tirade.

The doctors had informed me that they were pumping his lungs, getting the water out, before they’d put him in a temporary artificial coma before letting him wake up naturally… if he ever woke up.

I can’t really let my feelings get in the way, but the prospect of losing another driver… it was devastating.

Then, footsteps came running towards me and there was a shout, Jenson’s voice.

I turned my head to find the McLaren driver dragging the now two Mercedes drivers behind him.

“What the fuck happened?” shouted Button.

“Suicide attempt.” I replied.

Nico’s eyes filled with tears then and there while Lewis looked lost for a bit and sat down on a nearby bench with his face in his hands.

“Damn it!” cursed the blonde Brit, looking through the window into Seb’s hospital room. “Is he even gonna survive?”

“His lungs have been cleared and they’ll soon release him out of the artificial coma, but he’s gotta wake up on his own.” the Finn replied.

Jenson sighed. “Good thing you were there to get him out. I don’t know how I would’ve handled telling Mark his fiancé had killed himself without him probably going to kill Ecclestone.”

The black skinned Brit was still looking lost but had now wrapped his left arm around his crying partner.

Rosberg was curled up against his beloved’s side, crying on his shoulder.

I sighed too. I knew I was lucky that I could get so quick to the former Red Bull driver. Without the key to Seb’s apartment, he would have died before I could break open his front door.

Then, a doctor approached them. “Are you the friends of Sebastian Vettel?”

The McLaren driver nodded. “Yeah, we are. Any progress?”

“There is a… sudden development.” the man said, weary eyed. “I hope you are aware of Mr. Vettel’s… sexual orientation?”

“We all are.” the blonde Brit told. “Just tell us what the fucking problem is!”

The doctor looked on his charts. “As it turns out, Mr. Vettel has been pregnant for three months.”

The four drivers were stunned.

Jenson just blinked. “How’s that possible?”

“It turns out that Mr. Vettel was born intersex, but it seems no one noticed and thus both reproductive organs have developed.” the doctor replied. “Is there a possible father I should inform?”

Button shook his head. “His partner died two months ago.”

The doctor closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you until there are either complications or other developments regarding Mr. Vettel’s condition.” and he left.

I scratched my nose. “What are we gonna do now?”

“I’ll get Ecclestone on the line and we’ll have to see what happens next, I guess.” and the McLaren driver whipped out his phone to dial our boss’s number and walked over to a corner for more privacy.

“Seb’s having a baby…” Hamilton muttered, still kinda in shock.

Now, the blonde German next to him was smiling again. “I bet that that baby’s gonna look like Mark.”

I had to agree with the young Rosberg heir. Then, I looked at the bed the now triple world champion was lying on. He didn’t look like the invincible driver who had found his fire again after his lover’s death, he looked incredibly fragile and oh so tired as if it was 2 and a half months of restless nights had finally become visible.

Button returned with his phone back in his pocket. “Ecclestone now knows, but I doubt he’s going to inform Mark about his unborn kid.”

“Anything on the mission?” I asked.

“Mark found some incriminating evidence, but it’s not sufficient. He’s going to have to infiltrate the group of engineers.” the Brit replied as he crossed his arms. He also looked at the former RB driver. “It’s the most dangerous part. Knowing Mark, if he knew he had an unborn child, he probably wouldn’t do it.”

“Or it would be the most genius cover.”

Jenson gave me a weird look. “Say what?”

I just shrugged. “I mean, children aren’t cheap… I suppose that the people in the laundering business are earning something extra…”

Blue eyes lighted up. “Kimi-Mattias, you’re fucking brilliant! Has anyone ever said that to you?”

“Not that I recall…” I started before being cut off by a peck on my lips, placed there by the Brit before he went back to that corner to make another telephone call.

I kinda stood there, frozen as my brain was processing the sensations I was now feeling. I shook it off, I couldn’t get distracted now, not with Seb’s life still in danger.

* * *

_[December 30, 2012, Geneva] – Sebastian’s POV_

I opened my eyes to a blinding white light. I believed I was in heaven… until I heard the beeping.

I was in a hospital bed.

I closed my eyes again, and I started crying. I had failed, I wasn’t with Mark. _I just want to die_.

Then, I felt someone taking my hand. I opened my wet eyes to see who it was. Jenson fucking Button.

And he was looking at me with a stern look on his face. “Don’t. Fucking. Scare. Us. Again.” he said. “You were lucky Kimi was around to save you, you idiot!”

_Kimi? But how?_

A nurse was checking his vitals. “The doctor will come around in the afternoon.” and she left.

“Why didn’t Kimi just let me _die_?” I asked.

“Seb… why would you even want to die? Just because Mark did?” Button asked. “Man, you’re even more messed up than I thought you were.”

I just turned my head away.

“Seb, taking your own life is so _egoistic_. Haven’t you thought about your parents? Fabain? Your sisters? Christian? Us in _general_?” the Brit at my bedside asked. “We would all be devastated.”

I pressed my head in the pillow. “I _can’t_ live without Mark. I just _can’t_!”

“If you can’t live without him, then live _for_ him, and for _your_ baby.”

My eyes went wide and I froze. “ _What_?” had I heard that correctly? A _baby_? And I turned to face the McLaren driver.

His face wasn’t pulled into a _‘I’m just kidding’_ grin. No, he had a serious look on his face.

Then I looked down at my stomach and laid my hand on it. It was indeed much firmer than I remembered it being, and I was a little rounder in that particular area.

“You’re three months along.” Jenson told me. “You most likely conceived between Singapore and Japan.”

Yeah, I remember that night vividly. “Is there an ultrasound?”

“The doctors are probably gonna plan one with you. But once you’re out of here, Kimi’s taking you to Finland.”

I frowned. “Why Finland?”

“Much more secluded than this place, and Kimi knows doctors who don’t ask questions if they’re asked to perform a C-section on a heavily pregnant man in half June.” Button replied. “The press won’t follow you around there, so you can have your kid without the majority of the people knowing.”

* * *

_[January 7, 2013, Vieki] – Sebastian’s POV_

The little village Kimi brought me to was indeed very secluded. It was surrounded by thick woods, was _at least_ 10 kilometres from the nearest highway and it had a beautiful lake.

The Lotus driver had bought me a little cottage in the village and my stuff was already moved from Geneva to this place, probably done by Jenson, Nico and Lewis.

I sat down on the couch, cupping my little belly. The ultrasound had made it much more real that I was indeed carrying a baby, a little _living being_ that Mark and I created out of love. I could already picture our baby: it would have Mark’s eyes & dark curls and my nose & chin. If it is a boy, he would most likely become the spitting image of my beloved and if it is a girl, she will very likely take after our mums.

“There’s canned soup in the kitchen cabinets, vegetables in the fridge and some fruit on the table.” Kimi told. “I’ve got to go, Jenni’s waiting for me back home. I’ll try to be back as quick as I can.” and the Lotus driver left the cottage, leaving in the 2007 model Ferrari we came with.

Yeah, I could raise my child here safely. No prying eyes, no one around to criticise me or shame me for my abnormal nature… it’s lovely.

* * *

_[January 8, 2013, Helsinki] – Kimi’s POV_

It was early in the morning that I arrived at the house I had with Jenni. We hadn’t been getting on well lately, probably because she wanted to start a family while I was apprehensive.

“You’re late.” I heard Jenni say. She’d been sleeping on the couch, waiting for me.

I sighed. “I told you not to wait for me.”

My wife stood up from the couch and crossed her arms. “You’ve been evading me.”

“I told you, I’m not ready for kids Jenni.” I said.

“You spend two months in Switzerland visiting ‘a friend’ instead of being here, with your _wife_. Then you were spotted at the airport with that Vettel guy and you’re gone for three days before coming home to me.” Jenni said. “It feels like we’ve grown apart instead of together. This isn’t going to work. I’m going to file for a divorce.”

A divorce… it was something that I expected, I saw it coming. We were indeed a bit too different right now. Jenni wanted a family; one I couldn’t give her right now.

“Okay.” I just sighed before stomping upstairs and going to sleep in the guest bedroom instead.

* * *

_[January 8, 2013, Nottingham]_

Button just shook his head. “You’re all idiots.”

After Sebastian had been let out of the hospital, the McLaren driver had immediately flown back to Britain and ordered a meeting with The Top.

“We knew this was a possible consequence of faking Agent Webber’s death.” stated the Red Bull advisor.

“And you still went through with it without thinking!” Jenson shouted. “Do you even _care_ what happens to us, _or_ our _partners_ for that matter?”

“We do.” this time, it was Niki Lauda who spoke.

The 33-year-old driver huffed. “Honestly, you don’t really show it.”

“At times, we have to be harsh.” the old triple champion said in that hoarse, wise voice of his. “This mission we send Agent Webber on is extremely important, as we can no longer allow corruption to run this branch of motorsport. But he’s not alone in this.”

“Hartley is barely any help.” Button said. “He’s too new in this, he doesn’t count.”

Lauda shook his head. “Other help, I meant.”

“ _You_ send someone else too?” Toto Wolff asked.

The 64-year-old nodded. “I did. But he’ll keep under the radar until he is needed.”

“Care to share a name with us?” Jenson asked.

But Niki shook his head. “I will when it’s necessary.”

* * *

_[January 9, 2013, Salzburg] – Unknown POV_

I’ve been waiting for quite some time to get back at the scumbags who have cheated so many out of their money for their own damn gain. I couldn’t really believe it at first, when Mr. Lauda approached me when I was in the GP3 series, as it seemed too good to be even true!

He trained me to be who I am now, and I’m ready to get to work. Vettel’s withdrawal from Formula One was quite a perfect opportunity to get where I’m in a position to do something.

Being Italian gives me a little edge over Agent Webber, it possibly opens some doors as the majority of the people are Italian too. But then… getting Agent Webber and Agent Hartley to trust me enough to get the information to Ecclestone will be a lot harder. They don’t know me and telling them about my connection to Mr. Lauda would probably blow my cover. But no time to think about that now, I’ve got to get started.

* * *

_[January 20, 2013, Faenza]_

Brendon was already at the Toro Rosso factory, ready to get his seat fitted and get some sim work done.

“Brendon, I want to introduce you to your new teammate.” Tost said and pointed at the tall, skinny guy with brown hair who was talking rapidly in Italian to one of the technical engineers. “Mirko Bortolotti.”

The Kiwi frowned. He didn’t know much about the Italian, even though he’d driven in GP2 as well.

Franz slapped him on the back. “Just don’t do anything stupid on track, like crashing together.”

“I’m sure we can try that.” Hartley said before going over to Mirko.

The new Italian seemed younger than he was, but some just had more youthful faces than others.

Bortolotti smiled at the New Zealander the moment he stepped into view. “Hi! You must be Brendon, yes? I’m Mirko. Aren’t you excited too?”

“Well, you’re a chirpy one, aren’t you?” Brendon said. “I hope we’ll get along just fine.”

* * *

_[February 16, 2013, York] – Clifton Park Hospital_

It wasn’t until February that The Top secured a doctor who wouldn’t speak of Seb’s condition to the press and who was willing to do the ultrasounds.

When the gel was spread on his stomach and the monitor showed him the grey ultrasound image of the baby that had barely been there for five months… parenthood became much more real. He was going to be a single parent too, even though he had people whom he could rely on, and raising a child alone was difficult for anyone.

“It seems the baby is growing as it should be. Heartbeat’s healthy, no missing limbs.” the female doctor told him and looked him in the eyes. “Do you wish to know the gender as well?”

Vettel nodded. “Yes, please.”

The doctor hummed and turned her attention back to the screen. “Let’s see then… aha, congratulations, you’re having a baby boy!”

Tears started welling up in the triple world champion’s eyes as he looked at his pretty round belly. He was having Mark’s son, and there was no question as to how proud his Australian fiancé would’ve been.

Raikkonen took the younger man’s hand. “You want a tissue?”

Seb shook his head. “I’m just so happy and so sad at the same time. Damn these hormones!”

“That’s very normal near the fifth month of pregnancy, expect it to continue until you’re due and scheduled for that c-section.”

“That’s too long.” Sebastian murmured.

* * *

 _[February 24, 2013, Barcelona]_ _– Jenson’s POV_

Winter testing was here once more, and I couldn’t wait to get into that McLaren. I also had a new teammate, a Mexican, who went by the name of Sergio Perez. He’d driven for Sauber last year.

The Mexican was cute, but not as much as that lovely Finnish Iceman.

I can’t really pinpoint the moment I thought of Kimi as ‘cute’ or anything like that, but I suppose it was during my years with the Honda team and he was at Ferrari. Red had looked good on him, very good.

The fantasies had come later, much later, after I won my championship with Brawn GP and he was going into rallying. I fantasised about him dominating me and me watching everything he was doing to me physically in a large one-piece mirror, pinning me down and taking his pleasure from my body.

It’s been years since I’ve been with a man, and it’s only since last year that I’ve been thinking about coming out of the closet. I really don’t have any fucking timing, do I?

* * *

_[March 4, 2013, Veiki] – Sebastian’s POV_

Ever since we got back from York, Kimi’s been on edge and I have no clue as to why.

It’s not as if I hadn’t tried asking him, he just replied it was none of my business in that stone-cold tone of his that meant you just had to leave him alone for the time being.

I was reading a book with baby names when the Iceman sat down next to me and said: “Jenni and I are divorcing. It should be final this month.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting like you did?” I asked, putting the book aside.

Kimi shook his head. “Jenni’s always wanted kids. I was hesitant about it due to my career in motorsport, but I think it always was something else entirely.”

“Please, tell me.” I urged him.

There was some silence between us before the Finn before me got all awkward. “Uhm… I think I might be attracted to men too. Or at least, one _specific_ person of the male gender.”

I just smiled. “Anyone I know?”

“Yeah.” Kimi replied with a sigh. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

I grinned. “That was Mark for me, the man who made me realise the real feeling of love. I’m not saying this to romanticise, it’s never gonna be picture perfect, but you’ll at least find your way back to each other if you’re absolutely meant to be.”

“You think I should try it?”

“Absolutely. You never know what sprouts out of it.”

* * *

_[March 14, Melbourne] – Thursday Press Conference_

The press conference of the 2013 Australian Grand Prix would go down in history as complete chaos.

It looked normal in the beginning, until Kimi was asked a question by Sky Sports Italia.

_“Question for Kimi: how come you and the former Mrs. Raikkonen have separated?”_

“We just grew apart.” the Finn just replied. “Life got in the way, I guess.”

“And there is really no other reason?”

“I’ve also realised I’m bisexual.”

Silence filled the room after that reply, until a cheery Jenson said: “Wow mate, I’m bisexual too!” and he had the biggest grin of everyone in the room on his face.

Then, Nico Rosberg started to laugh. “Oh, so that’s why you were staring at my ass!”

Giedo just slammed his forehead on the table and Romain muttered: “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Coming out party’s tonight, my trailer, everyone’s welcome!” Button called out, cheekily pinching Rosberg’s butt, who jumped up and slapped the Brit on the back of his head.

“I have a boyfriend, you perv!”

“You know that’s not gonna stop me.” and Jenson wiggled his eyebrows.

The French Lotus driver looked up at the table above him, annoyed. “Could you two quit flirting?”

The McLaren driver leaned over the table he was at, looking down on Kimi’s teammate. “Why? You want me to flirt with you instead? I can do that.”

Grosjean could only sputter incomprehensive vowels, no full words or sentences.

“Well, this is quite a circus.” the Dutch Caterham driver spoke into the microphone.

Rosberg, who sat next to the guy, shoved him off his chair for laughs.

As this all was going on, Kimi just put on his sunglasses with a smile.

Yup, this was kind of a PR-nightmare for some teams, but that was to be expected when you let kids play.

\------  


That evening, there was indeed a large party going on with a lot of LGBT flags being woven around, lots of laughter and extreme loud music, mainly rock, that kept the whole paddock awake into the early hours of the next day.

Kimi was just sipping from a bottle of _good_ Finnish vodka that Heikki had magically made appear from somewhere to share it with his fellow Finn. Not that the Lotus driver was complaining, he was always up for a glass of good alcohol.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” it was the unmistakable voice of the party’s host, his British accent thick after quite a couple glasses of Bacardi-cola.

“I have no complaints.” Raikkonen said, leaning against the Lotus truck.

Button stepped closer. “About that day in the hospital…”

“You don’t have to excuse yourself.” the Lotus driver said.

Jenson looked down. “I hope I didn’t place you in some awkward position then, I guess I really couldn’t restrain myself. I was very emotional.”

“I noticed.” and the Finn looked at his British rival. “Me and Jenni were however going to end up divorced, there were things in life I couldn’t give to her.”

Button let out a deep breath. “Good lord I wasn’t the instigator.”

Kimi shook his head. “No. But you kissing me did made me realise this.”

“You being bisexual?” asked the McLaren driver.

“Not only that, but also this.” and Raikkonen pressed his lips against his fellow driver’s.

The Brit moaned wantonly and pressed his body against the Finn, who wrapped his tattooed arms around the other man’s waist

\------  


Lewis ducked behind the Ferrari truck. “Yup, you were right. Button’s basically offering his body to Raikkonen. Jeez, never thought I’d see those two together, how am I going to _un-see_ that?”

Nico turned to Felipe. “How’d you know?”

The Brazilian just grinned. “Instinct. I know those two, I was teammates with Kimi in 2007 and I’ve known Button from my karting days. And the cliché of ‘opposites attract’ is often quite true. We’ve seen in many times in the last couple years.” and he winked at the two Mercedes drivers.

Rosberg rolled his eyes. “Figures. Any idea how this shitstorm will blow over your teammate?”

“Ah, Fernando. I hope that after what I told him during Button and Raikkonen’s ‘coming out’ will call him down for now and maybe even shut him up forever.” the small black-haired man told.

Hamilton frowned. “What did you say to him?”

“Oh, I just told him about this cliché that the people screaming for gays to go back into their closets are _very_ often closeted gays who’re to afraid to come out.”

The German smiled. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

* * *

_[March 16, 2013, Melbourne] – Toro Rosso garage_

Mark was working on Hartley’s car to get things ready for the qualifying session when a guy from the other side of the garage came towards him.

“I heard you were struggling financially mate.” the guy said.

The secret Agent sighed. “Yeah, a new-born is going to cost more than I can currently earn, especially in combination with my wife’s high maintenance life-style.”

“You know, there’s a way to make a little extra around this garage.” the engineer whispered.

Webber was disgusted on the inside but showed interest on his face on the outside. “How?”

“Come to the Marussia garage during Q1, no one’s around when their cars are on track.” and the man left, back to the Italian’s side of the garage.

Okay, that conversation was on tape. More confirmation that shit was up at the TR garage.

The Australian didn’t miss the weird look the Italian driver, Mirko, was giving that particular engineer. As if he too understood something was up with the people around him.

Bortolotti was just a kid, probably in his early twenties, he shouldn’t be dragged into this crazy shit yet.

Then, the Kiwi came in wearing his race suit. “Is it ready for the afternoon, Virtanen?”

“It should be, depends on the engine guys though.”

Brendon leaned in closer. “Can I speak to you in the back?”

Mark nodded as a reply and followed the blonde driver into his private little room in the garage. As the door closed, the Aussie frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I just got a message from The Top, from Lauda personally.”

The Agent undercover as an engineer raised an eyebrow. “That’s rare.”

“I thought so too.” Hartley said. “It was actually more or less a notification, saying that there’s a third Agent undercover in this garage.”

“A third?” Webber asked. “Are you sure?”

The New-Zealander gave the older man his phone. “You can read it yourself.”

The driver hadn’t been kidding. The message had indeed come from Lauda himself.

“How good are the Agents trained by Lauda?”

“Hakkinen-good.” the Kiwi replied. “Or at least, that’s what they’re supposed to be.”

Mark nodded. “Let’s hope they’re indeed _that_ good. We could use the help.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Brendon asked.

The other Toro Rosso driver poked his head through the door. “I hope you guys aren’t busy, but Q1’s gonna start in just five minutes.”

“Thanks for the warning mate.” the blonde driver said and went back into the main area of the garage while Webber snuck out and went to the Marussia trucks.

That engineer hadn’t been kidding when he said it would be empty, it was totally deserted!

“Glad you could make it.” a voice said.

The Australian spun around, being faced with some of the guys from the Toro Rosso garage. But the others were from the Marussia team. Thus, it seemed that Marussia engineers were also in this business.

“So, Eric Virtanen, are you ready to earn some extra money?” another engineer, this one was from Marussia and also had a Russian accent, asked.

“What is it that I have to do?” Mark asked.

“Sabotage Hartley’s car.” the first engineer said. “There are bets on Bortolotti finishing before that Kiwi, but that _cockslut_ is somehow three seconds faster.”

Agent Webber didn’t like it but agreed. He was furious on the inside though, because of their comment on Brendon. The word itself didn’t have to be insulting, but it was the homophobic tone it was said with.

* * *

_[March 17, 2013, Melbourne] – Hartley’s POV_

My morning shower was disturbed by Agent Webber, who had been furiously knocking on my door at only 9AM in the morning. And I was naked when he started knocking.

With just a towel on my hips to cover my private parts, I opened the door not too wide.

But the Australian just barged in and closed the door for me. “I have to sabotage your car.”

I was stunned. “Sabotage?”

“It’s match-fixing.” Mark told. “And it’s not only the Toro Rosso garage that’s in it, half the Marussia guys are too. Damn those Russians.”

I scratched my head. “It’s much bigger than we thought. We’re gonna need eyes and ears there too. Have you already sent a message to The Top?”

The man before me shook his head. “You kidding me? I’m being watched by those guys; they still don’t trust me. I can’t just message Ecclestone or Lauda without it looking suspicious.”

“I’ll do it.” I said and rolled my eyes.

Agent Webber looked over my naked form. “Just had your shower, I see.”

“You disturbed me. Now shoo!” and I chased my fellow Agent out.

To the outside world, it probably looked like we were in some half-assed relationship that _had_ to stay secret or some parts of their lives were over. I laughed at the rumours I heard from my Italian teammate, he could tell them very animatedly and with voice impressions.

People were idiots.

* * *

During the race, my right rear tyre blew in a corner. I got stuck in a gravel trap, and I took that retirement to my name. I acted as sad as any driver who crashed out of their home races, but I knew this was just because of some match-fixing idiots that had gotten into the paddock.

After the interviews, I went straight to the FIA building.

Bernie didn’t seem all that surprised when I came into his office. “Do you have some information?”

“I suppose you know about the match-fixing?” I asked.

Ecclestone nodded at me. “I heard the tape yesterday evening. I never thought people would stoop this low to get their hands on some money.”

I hummed. “Mr. Ecclestone, I’ve been thinking. Perhaps this whole match-fixing thing with money laundering attached to it can only exist because people are desperate for money.”

The older man in front of me frowned. “You’re suggesting a higher pay?”

“Well, at least an investigation to the teams’ income and spending habits. And as it’ll be all the teams, there’s no one who’ll find it suspicious.” I replied.

Bernie scratched his chin. “I’ll look into it.”

“You know, now Mark’s in the group, do you think there’s a possibility for a quick round-up?” I asked, sitting down in front of the Formula One owner.

“If it only were so simple.” Ecclestone sighed. “I don’t think it’s gonna be a ‘quick round-up’ as you put it. There’s no way of knowing how deep the match-fixing is, over how many teams it spans…”

“It will take at least one more year?”

“At least this season, I’m afraid. Next season might be different, but there’s no way of knowing how this undercover mission’s going to pan out.”

I nodded. “Of course. I should go back to the team, get ready for the debrief.”

“You do that. Dismissed, Agent Hartley.”

And I left that office.

* * *

_[March 17, 2013, Melbourne] – Mirko’s POV_

Franz wasn’t happy with the team today. I kinda grinned during that yelling.

When I heard about the match-fixing, I sabotaged my own steering in such a crude way that everyone could tell it had been messed with during park fermé. And _coincidentally_ , it failed the same lap as the one where my teammate ended up in the gravel after a tyre exploding.

Agent Webber had done a much more subtle way of sabotage, since tyres did explode all around the grid at the weirdest of times during long stints and slow punctures did happen due to collisions. Then again, he had years of training while I was quite new. Maybe I could learn from this guy? Mr. Lauda did always say that gathering knowledge was something good.

* * *

_[April 14, 2013, Veiki] – Sebastian’s POV_

I’ve been in this little cottage for months now, I’ve only gone to York for those ultrasounds and all type of prenatal care. Some of the guys have been visiting me in between their race weekends, though. I wished I could go to tracks with them, but I can’t until the baby’s born.

Last time Jenson was here, he told me about what happened in Australia between him and Kimi.

I had been smiling like an idiot during that entire conversation. I was happy that those two were at least ‘kind off’ together, everyone deserved happiness.

I had only seen pictures and headlines of the chaos was that particular press conference and the situation in the paddock since.

As I went through the news articles from Formula One, I found one of my old team Toro Rosso.

_‘Technical director Giorgio Ascanelli replaced by James Key’_

Well, that was new. And I clicked on the article.

_‘On the 8 th of April, Toro Rosso’s technical director Giorgio Ascanelli was arrested on the suspicion of fraud with prize money and partaking in match-fixing. Former McLaren technical director James Key will replace him in the 2013 season.’_

What? Match-fixing and fraud?

_‘“It has come to light during an internal monetary investigation.” said Formula One owner Bernie Ecclestone. “Someone approached me about the financial concerns of several people inside his team. Although this isn’t usually my concern, I have heard similar concerns from multiple people who’re currently active in this sport or have been in the past.”’_

As I read the entire article, something started gnawing at me on the inside, like something was off about this whole situation. I have no doubt that those accusations could be actually true, but… a monetary investigation inside Formula One? There was never one in the history that I know of, or they kept those silent for the media and the public since nothing was dug up.

My gut still says something’s wrong about this situation.

* * *

_[April 16, 2013, Faenza] – Mark’s POV_

When Ascanelli was arrested, it had sent some of the corrupt engineers into a frenzy and they went scouring around like the rats that they are. They were panicking, and that was good. Once there’s no more order, mistakes are quickly made, and we should see results by the time summer break’s around the corner and I have to do a full report for The Top. The more we find the quicker we can roll this entire corrupt network up and I can be Mark Webber again instead of Eric Virtanen.

* * *

_[May 14, 2013, Helsinki] – Jenson’s POV_

Kimi and I started visiting Seb together before and after races, we travelled together from races to Helsinki and from Helsinki to the race locations.

Some of our friends even started to point out that we were acting like a married couple, as if we’d been together for years already.

It was the early morning two days after Barcelona, where we both had pretty good races. Kimi had come in second place and I eighth, which was pretty good considering the McLaren wasn’t very good this year. I’m driving in the midfield, fighting for ‘best of the rest’ with a pretty shitty car. My teammate, Sergio, wasn’t doing much better either having only finished in the points in Malaysia, Bahrein and Spain. Much of it had to do with retirements from the Red Bull and Mercedes cars.

Kimi’s right arm lay around my waist, as if it belonged there.

I smiled. Ever since Melbourne, things between us had changed. We had a pretty long conversation the night after the race, both sober as we stared up at the stars above us.

It wasn’t easy to convince the Finn that Jessica had been a temporary cover until I’d found someone. I even called Jessica to explain the situation to him and he still hadn’t been convinced, but that’s all solved now.

I felt Kimi stir behind me, so I turned my head. “Good morning love.”

Kimi just grumbled and I grinned. My beloved Finn wasn’t really a morning person.

“I probably should go and make breakfast.” but as I attempted to go out of bed, my ass got pulled back in by Kimi’s strong arms. “Kimi…”

“Comfortable.” my Iceman grumbled, now securing me in his embrace with his left arm too.

I sighed. “We do need to eat.”

“One more hour.”

I just shook my head against the pillow. “Unbelievable.”

* * *

_[June 10, 2013, York] – Clifton Park Hospital_

The same doctor who had performed the ultrasounds had also done the c-section to deliver Seb his baby.

“What would you want to name him?” the doctor asked once Vettel was awake and holding his son.

“Michael. Michael Alexander Mark Webber.” Sebastian said as he smiled at his new-born son.

Jenson smiled. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“I know Mark would’ve agreed with you there.” the triple world champion said with a goofy smile.

“Yeah…” Button sighed as he looked at the child.

The kid had indeed dark hair on his little head. No one would be able to claim that this wasn’t Mark’s kid, or they had to be _really_ blind. It caused the McLaren driver sadness; he wanted to tell Seb so _badly_ that his fiancé was still alive, but I wasn’t _allowed_.

The only woman in the room wrote the name down and left the two of them.

They were in a separate ward, where only members of the Agency were allowed in and some of the hospital staff who’d been sworn to secrecy.

Little Michael was a bit squirmy right now in his dad’s arms.

* * *

_[August 13, 2013, Heppenheim] – Sebastian’s POV_

I haven’t been home in quite a while, I can’t even remember the last time I was here… probably before Mark died. The place I once called home felt alien to me, especially after all that time in Finland.

Michael was squirming in my arms again, as if he could feel my discomfort.

I sighed and just rang the doorbell.

My mother, Heiki, opened the door and looked at me with a shocked look. “Seb? Is that you? What the hell happened to you? Come on in!”

I stepped inside my parents’ home, being greeted by the cooler air of air-conditioning.

My mother sat me down in the living room, where my dad, Norbert, was also seated. He too was quite surprised upon seeing me.

I expected that, they hadn’t seen me in a year since I told them about my engagement.

“Uh… hi mom, hi dad.” I just greeted, kinda awkwardly.

My dad was looking at my son. “Care to explain the baby?”

I sighed. “It’s a long story… but it seems I have a pretty rare medical condition. It seems I also have a working uterus and all.”

My mom blinked. “You could say it’s rare. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Never mind that being gay wasn’t allowed for decades.” my dad huffed.

“Mom, dad, this is my son, Michael.” I said, breaking the silence. “He’s Mark’s too.”

“When did you get pregnant?” my mom asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “The doctor thought it was last year in September.”

“Before he died.” my father stated.

I just nodded. “I just wanted to inform you, I guess. I’m still getting my life back on track after all this happened, but I thought you needed to know.”

* * *

_[August 22, 2013, Stavelot] – Thursday Media Day_

A lot of progress was made in the summer break, so Mark felt quite comfortable that he would be able to return to Sebastian at the end of this year and fulfil his promise of a beautiful wedding in Mechelen whether Seb would want it in the winter or the summer.

Agent Webber was just walking around in his disguise when he suddenly saw Seb, at _Grosjean’s_ Lotus truck, leaning back in a chair chatting to the driver in question while _feeding a baby_.

He was stunned. ‘Seb’s got a baby?’ what the fuck happened!?’ and he went over to the McLaren truck of Jenson Button and hauled the man inside.

“ _What the hell_?” the McLaren driver exclaimed. “Are you _out of your fucking mind_ , Webber?”

“Why’s Seb here _with a baby_?” the undercover Agent hissed.

The blonde’s eyes went wide. “You weren’t supposed to know yet.” he said with a small voice.

A vein was thumping in Mark’s head. “Who’s the other parent?” he demanded.

“You.”

The now chestnut-haired man blinked. “ _What_?”

Jenson threw his hands in the air. “Long story short, Vettel’s got _working_ female reproduction organs and you knocked the guy up before you ‘died’.”

Webber blinked more as Button just sighed.

“I… I’m a father.” the undercover Agent slowly stated before looking at the ground. “I have a child.”

“Congrats Mark, it’s a boy.” the Brit said.

“What’s his name?” Mark asked.

Jens grinned. “Seb named him Michael.”

The Australian smiled. “Michael… Vettel or Webber?”

“Webber.” Button replied.

“Michael Webber… it fits. My father would’ve been over the moon if he knew, he’s always urged me to have kids.” the now chestnut-haired man told.

The McLaren driver laughed. “Well, once this shit show’s over, you can tell him. But until then, we need the paddock to believe he’s your nephew instead of your son.”

Mark frowned. “Why that now?”

Jenson spread his arms. “You’re undercover, and if your cover’s somehow blown or something along those lines, Michael is safer as your nephew than he would be if it came out that he was your son.”

“I guess.” Agent Webber murmured.

“Believe me, is better.”

* * *

_[August 22, 2013, Stavelot] – Unknown POV_

I had known from the start that something was wrong with that new Toro Rosso engineer Eric Virtanen.

Last year in Korea, he just showed up out of the blue in a Toro Rosso uniform and Franz Tost had just introduced him as a new colleague that would work closely with the new Toro Rosso driver Brendon Hartley.

I snorted. Hartley wasn’t worthy of being called a _man_ , he behaved so overly feminine and his flirting with many of the engineers and the technical staff made me feel gross.

We drove both in GP2 last year and the year before, and I couldn’t _stand_ it that he seemed to be able to score those podiums and points. It should’ve been _me_ who got the F1 seat first, but Hartley probably sucked Marko’s dick or took it in the ass to get that seat. I mean, _a lot_ of those Red Bull drivers are gay and probably just toy boys for that old man.

Eric Virtanen came out of _Jenson fucking Button’s_ truck, wearing the biggest, brightest smile on his face that I’ve only ever seen World Champions wear. As if something incredible had happened.

I scowled and went back to my team, telling those stupid engineers to keep an eye on the guy. He could very well be a threat to my future empire, and I won’t let that happen.

\------  


It wasn’t until I was scanning pictures of people in Formula One, past and present, that I saw who Eric Virtanen _truly_ was. A sour look appeared on my face as I realised it was _Mark Webber_ , an _Agent_.

The Top knows too much already. My right-hand man has already been arrested, and now they’ve got someone _inside_ my organization snooping around and collecting names.

I’ve got to do something, and quick, before I’m betrayed by a lesser loyal lackey of mine.

* * *

_[August 23, 2013, Stavelot]_

It was late at night when Mark was still walking through the trailer park to get to his own sleeping place. He was returning from a meeting with Lauda, Whiting and Ecclestone on the latest progress of his case.

So far, things had gone smooth for the undercover agent. No major obstacles and quite a couple names of people who were in on the business of the match-fixing and money laundering. There was no one in Toro Rosso that suspicious of him as he just did his job before disappearing into the night to return in the morning and do some more work.

As he was starting to make his way past the garages, Agent Webber felt a very sharp pain in his left shoulder. Someone had put a knife into him.

His Agent’s training kicked in and adrenaline got produced to make him feel less pain.

With his good arm, the former Red Bull driver punched his attacker straight in the face; the blow likely breaking the cartilage of his nose. Then, a kick in the balls to immobilize the person and then a headlock to finish the job and get the guy unconscious.

Mark took the knife and went to the nearest garage that he knew could help him: Red Bull.

Newey was near the back door, and clearly surprised to see the Agent with a bloodied knife.

“Got stabbed.” Webber said, clinching his left shoulder.

The technical director just shook his head and took his former driver to one of the driver’s booths to lay him down there and disinfect the wound with alcohol on a towel.

The Agent hissed at the contact of the alcohol with his knife wound.

“Press this, I’m getting the others.”

The Australian knew what Adrian meant by that, and he was glad his people still worked at night to get everything ready for the 3rd free practise and the qualifying sessions.

Christian was the first to see him. “By God, Mark!”

“That’s what stabbing does, I guess.” Mark grumbled.

The RB team principal looked at the wound. “Man, this looks awful.”

“Stab wounds usually don’t look pretty.” the Aussie grunted.

Horner looked down at the bloodied knife. “I’ll get Toto. He might be able to get the fingerprints of your attacker off of it so we can arrest the bastard.”

“I never knew you were a part of the Agency.” Webber stated.

The Brit shook his head. “No, I wasn’t.”

The Agent frowned. “Then how do you know?”

“I was approached during my racing career, but I didn’t become an Agent like you or DC.” Chris replied as he put his hands in his pockets. “I became Associated though, especially when Marko got involved with Red Bull. I just keep two fingers on the pulse, kept an eye on you.”

The Australian laughed. “So, you were just an unofficial Keeper the whole time! Did you even get paid?”

Christian snorted. “For watching a bunch of idiots going at it like rabbits? Not enough!”

A doctor came in next who cleaned up the mess and put bandages on him.

While that happened, Horner phoned Toto to get down to the Red Bull garage as quick as possible.

And indeed, Toto Wolff appeared about 10 minutes later with a scowl on his face.

“Mark got stabbed, he took the knife with him.” and the RB team principal pointed at the knife that was still laying there covered in drying blood.

The Mercedes team principal sighed. “I’ll get onto it immediately. I’m informing The Top; they might want to take action now this has happened.”

“Plans changing every day?” Mark asked, only receiving a nod as reply before the Austrian left with the bloodied knife in an evidence bag. The Agent just shrugged and lay down on the bench.

“It might be best for you to keep out of sight for a while.” Horner told him. “You can spend the night here if you want to.”

Webber laughed. “Nah, but thanks. I think I can steal Jenson’s bed, kicking him into Kimi’s.”

“Thanks for _that_ mental image.” grumbled the team boss.

“I mean, isn’t it overly clear that they’re like at least fucking?”

Chris shook his head. “You’ll never learn.”

* * *

_[August 24, 2013, Stavelot] – Ecclestone’s POV_

I looked at the results of the fingerprints that had been lifted from the knife that had been used in the attack on one of my Agents. There were _three_ sets.

The top fingerprints were Agent Webber’s. He had last gripped the handle before it had been taken as evidence.

The set beneath his were that of a Marussia technical engineer, who’d been found unconscious at the scene of the crime and who’d also confessed to attacking Agent Webber out of orders after Hamilton’s pretty intense interrogation.

And that is where the first set came in. The instigator of this crime against the Agency.

Max Chilton, the second Marussia driver.

Mr. Wolff sat in front of me on the chair, waiting for new orders.

I placed the papers down and sighed. “It’s Lockdown Time. Code Red.”

“Yes sir.” and the Austrian left my office and I could hear him shouting orders at my bureaucrat Agents.

I leaned back in my chair. It seemed Agent Hartley just got his wish, it’s round-up time.

* * *

_[August 24, 2013, Stavelot]_

Sirens blasted through the paddock and red lights jumped on everywhere.

All Agents in the paddock got the notification _‘Lockdown. Round-up.’_

The gates to the circuit were shut and on the inside and outside of every gate 4 armed men in black & grey uniforms made sure no one could get in or out.

There was massive panic inside the paddock for the people who didn’t know what was going on as men and women in those black and grey uniforms with metal masks appeared from literally every corner.

Sebastian held his son tightly as he too was ordered to leave the Red Bull guest accommodation and into the ‘street’ where everyone else was. He feared for his friends when he didn’t see their faces, but what he did see were loads of engineers being marched down from their teams to the FIA building.

Grosjean was next to him, who they clearly had roused from his sleep.

“What’s going on? Where are the others?” Vettel asked as his son was starting to squirm once more, probably not liking the sound of loud sirens.

Romain shook his head. “I’ve got no idea, mate.”

The German didn’t like what was going on, wishing to hide his son somewhere these masked people couldn’t see him. His son was only three and a half months old, and he’s the only thing he’s got left besides his engagement ring that connected him to Mark. “I love you Michael.”

One of those Uniformed people stood behind him and Seb thought that that was the end for them both.

But instead of pushing them forward, this person wrapped his arms around Sebastian and his son and pulled them backwards, as if to protect them.

Vettel looked up at the masked person. His was white with two blue stripes on his forehead. None of the others had that, their masks were simply a variation of grey.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” the person, a man, said to him. “You’ll be safe.”

That voice… that Australian accent… but it couldn’t be!

Slowly, the man ushered him back into the accommodation he’d been using.

The man from Heppenheim stepped back, eyes wide. “This can’t be happening… you’re a _ghost_!”

“Please, Sebastian, let me explain.” the Uniformed man said.

Seb shook his head. “I’m going crazy. Oh God, this can’t be happening.”

The man removed his metal mask, indeed showing the face of his lover and father of his child.

Tears formed into the German’s blue eyes. “I’m hallucinating, this can’t be happening!”

Mark, or his ghost, stepped forward. “Seb, I am real. Look at me.”

Sebastian shook his head, refusing to look at the spirit of his lover, until a pair of strong, _warm_ hands were placed on his cheeks and turned his face towards the face of Mark.

Vettel could feel the pulse of a living, breathing person. He wasn’t staring into dead glazed over eyes; they were warm, _alive_ , sad, full of guilt. They were _Mark’s_.

“I’m so sorry.” the Australian said while crying. “I wish things could’ve been different.”

Seb just kept staring, not believing his eyes.

The dark-haired man sighed and kissed his fiancé’s lips.

The German closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of Mark’s warm lips and the subtle scratch of his stubble. This was real, not some hallucination his mind had made up to cope with the loss of his lover.

Sebastian pulled away slightly, looking up at his teary-eyed fiancé. “Why did you leave me?”

“I never intended to.” the Aussie replied. “It just… came to be. After my crash in Japan, they send me undercover at Toro Rosso because of suspected money laundering practices. It was better for everyone to believe I was dead; nobody would ask questions.”

“But… that body?”

“Was fake.” Webber told. “I even gave them my engagement ring to make it even more real. I got it back though, it’s waiting for me in Copenhagen.”

“Them?” Seb asked.

“The Top of the Agency, they assign the missions.” Mark moved his hand through his dark hair. “Some of Formula One’s top figures are part of it.”

The blonde looked at Michael. “Do you want to hold our son?”

“Yes.” answered the Agent breathlessly.

Michael had his hair, his eyes and Seb’s nose.

Agent Webber’s eyes became full of happy tears upon holding his child for the first time. He couldn’t believe that they together created this beautiful child. “He’s so beautiful.”

“I know.” Seb said with a soft voice. “I was so fucking _silly_ during pregnancy, Kimi and Jenson must’ve head headaches after visiting me every time.”

“I’ll be sure to ask.” the dark-haired man said before kissing his lover once more.

Sebastian got lost in the kiss and wanted nothing more than making up for the time they lost. “I was so fucking _horny_ since February; I’ve had to fuck myself with plastic dildos. I want to fuck you _so bad_.”

Lustful thoughts came up in Webber’s dirty mind and he smirked. “Oh, and I _will_. Just not in front of our baby. You go prepare, I’ll make sure our child is warm and safe.”

Vettel bit his lip. “I will.” and he went to the accommodation’s bedroom, wiggling his ass at his fiancé.

Mark smirked again before placing his child in the little crib in the living room. “Hi Michael, I’m your father. Now, I’ll call uncle Jenson to take care of you, okay?” and he took his phone out of his pocket to message Button to get his ass over to Seb’s place.

Jenson, also still dressed in an Agent’s uniform, came in. “So, you want me to look after your child while you and Vettel go fuck and possibly make another one of these?”

“Pretty much.” the older Agent replied.

The McLaren driver shook his head. “You two are impossible.”

“Nah, I think you and Kimi are just as bad.”

The Brit’s blue eyes narrowed. “How do you even know?”

“You’re not exactly _‘keeping it quiet’_ when you’re fucking in that Lotus trailer if I can hear it while walking past it.” the Australian told as if it was a matter of fact.

Button pulled a face before taking baby Michael with him, possibly to either the Lotus trailer or his own.

Webber then locked the door before going upstairs, to the bedroom.

Sebastian was already spread out on the matrass with two fingers in his ass as he prepared for his lover.

The Agent gasped as he saw the naked body that had carried his son. The pale skin had tanned a little, but not too much, and there was a diagonal scar on his stomach that had been made to get their son out.

“Like what you see?” Vettel murmured, pressing his fingers deeper into his hole and moaning as he touched a particular sensitive spot in his channel.

“Very, _very_ much.” Mark said in a husky voice and began removing his clothes. His cock was rock hard, probably because he hadn’t had sex for _months_. He hadn’t dared to take a prostitute, even if it was just a simple fuck, just because he feared he’d get discovered if he did.

His fiancé on the other had kept himself busy with toys in his absence while his stomach had been growing. He’d love to see his sexy lover fuck himself one day, but not today.

Webber grabbed his lover’s wrist, pulling the fingers out and replacing them with his own. “Did you think of me every time you fucked yourself with those toys.”

Vettel took in a sharp breath. “Yes.” he answered.

“And what did you fantasize about? Tell me.” and the taller man twisted his fingers.

Seb moaned louder. “You… _taking_ me hard, and fast. _Oh!_ You impregnating me _over and over_ every time I birthed a child until I couldn’t anymore.”

“How much children did you give me in that fantasy?” Mark asked, breathing the words in his lover’s ear.

“I remember _ten_.”

The dark-haired man smiled. “Well, that is a lot. But with this body of yours being so _accommodating_ to my children… I don’t think we’ll be far off.”

The German whimpered as those fingers left his body but gasped for breath when his beloved’s cock entered him. It was bigger than the dildos he had used to satisfy himself, but it could never compare to _this_ feeling of being filled up.

The stronger Australian purred in his fiancé’s ear once he was fully inside. “I’m going to fill you up again. And this time, I’m going to be around when my child is growing inside of you, swelling you up.”

“ _Yes_.” Sebastian moaned. “Fuck me Mark, _take_ me. Reclaim my body as yours.”

The 26-year-old didn’t have to tell his 34-year-old lover that twice.

* * *

_[December 7, 2013, Nottingham] – Agency Headquarters_

“Agent Mark Alan Webber, ID 002, please step forward.”

Mark stepped into the light, looking up at the members of The Top, who stood up from their seats.

It was Whiting who spoke. “We thank you for bringing your latest mission to a successful end. Therefore, we are granting your request to the Intelligence part of the Agency.”

Webber grinned. “Thank you, gentleman. Just remember, I’m only one phone call away.”

“Dully noted.” Lauda grumbled.

The Australian just laughed as he left the room. Throwing jokes at the two older Austrians was always fun.

Sebastian was waiting for him in the guest area of the building complex, talking to Nico Rosberg who was probably waiting for Lewis to return.

“What’re you doing here anyways Rosberg?” the dark-haired Agent asked.

“Just keeping Vettel here company.” the blonde Agent replied. “The Agent waiting areas are so _dull_.”

Mark laughed at that. “Yeah, I know. Too much grey. Shall we go, Seb?”

The other German blonde nodded and stood up. His belly had been getting rounder and rounder, and the same doctor who had done his prenatal care the first time around had confirmed the 26-year-old was pregnant for a second time.

As the two of them walked away from the complex, Webber lay his hand on his fiancé’s stomach. “You saw the doctor again?”

The triple world champion nodded. “Yeah, new ultrasounds. I’ve got to go back in January or February to see further development and the gender reveal.”

“I’d love to go with you before my first ‘talent scouting’ season starts.” the Agent told.

“Which race category?” the pregnant man asked.

“The European Formula three Series.”

Seb just hummed.

“There’ll be six rookies, it’s going to be fun to watch those trying to shake up the order.”

“Isn’t that what rookies do?” Sebastian asked.

“I suppose so.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might just write a sequel to this, I'm not sure yet since that depends on my imagination and everything else my brain might come up with.


End file.
